Tell Me Who I Am
by tehToastwillEatU
Summary: This was war. These flashbacks, these thoughts… Each second these images and words laced their way through his mind was like having wounds reopened and stained with salt. Follows the Germany HRE theory.


**A/N: From now on, I'm going to focus on one story and one story only instead of switching to 300 different stories every five minutes. *rants to self and attempts pep-talk***

**Hetalia isn't mine.**

**Enjoy~**

Mornings were always the same for Ludwig and Feliciano. Ludwig would always be the first to wake; 6:00 AM to be specific. He would often, if not every day, wake up to his Italian ally curled up right next to him like a cat to its owner. Sometimes he would cling to one of his muscular arms, sometimes not. While the German strongly discouraged this, stating how it is "inappropriate" for their friendship, he learned to give up very quickly due to the fact that Feliciano would not listen—not even if the German himself were to punish him.

Feliciano would always wake to find Ludwig's side of the bed made nice and neatly as if he wasn't ever there at all. The bed would always be colder without the muscular blonde's body heat, and that's one of the reasons as to why Feliciano slept so closely to him in the first place.

Some mornings, though, were different. Ludwig would wake up as usual to find the Italian clinging to him but, instead of him sleeping peacefully, he would be silently crying in his sleep. And, as the German would move away, the arm that was being clung to would be stained with tears. Ludwig's common sense would say it was just a bad nightmare, but sometimes, in the back of his mind, he knew it was something more. And then the Italian would stay in bed for most of the day. Once again, Ludwig's common sense would say he was tired and energy drained from the disturbed sleep. And, once again, something in the back of his mind knew it was something more.

This was one of those mornings.

Ludwig sat in his study finishing the last of his paperwork. It was surprising how much he could get done without Feliciano bothering him, but it was even more surprising how much he couldn't concentrate knowing Feliciano wasn't. He always felt so uneasy when the other did this…_this_… He didn't even know what to call it.

_This is the third time this month_, the German thought as he put his pen down. _It's getting worse_.

The blond scolded himself time and time again for this, but not once has he checked on his ally—his only friend. The Italian would always be back to normal the next day, after all. So what was wrong? Maybe if Ludwig were to just peak in for a few seconds and see if he was still sleeping, maybe, just maybe it would set his worries at ease.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he stood from his desk and contemplated. The only reason Ludwig wouldn't check was because he felt it was inappro—

No, he was just shy. This time, though, he was going to surpass it whether he wanted to or not. What kind of friend was he…?

The German found himself standing in front of his bedroom door. It was quiet in there; just as he expected. And as he gently pushed the door open, it was still quiet—minus the soft rain kissing the window. The room was too dark to see the Italian's face. Ludwig could only see eerie shadows and figures throughout the room, not to mention the small outline of Feliciano's body. He couldn't even tell if he was still alive and breathing. Ludwig walked closer, pondering on whether or not to wake the sleeping brunet.

Ludwig didn't have to because he was already awake; just staring blankly at the pouring rain.

"Feliciano?"

No response.

The German shook the Italian lightly. "Italy?"

Ludwig began to worry. He rolled Feliciano onto his back and pressed an ear to the exposed chest.

—ba-bum, ba-bum, ba-bum—

"Holy Rome…"

That name hit the German as if it belonged to him. Slowly, he looked into the teary eyes of the dazed brunet. Those hazel eyes held pain, but that smile held happiness. Feliciano brushed back a few fallen strands of hair from the blonde's face—his touch almost ghostly.

Those light hazel eyes began to blink to a close, "Holy Roman Empire," and then his hand fell.

Ludwig could only stare at the now closed eyes of his ally. He knew that name. He knew it, yet…he's never heard it before.

_Yes you have_.

That little voice said he's heard it before, but his more dominant voice said otherwise. That voice was wrong. He's heard it in whispers, in rumors; in cries and in pleas. Where, though, and when? More importantly, why?

The blond stood straight once again. _That person must have been an old friend of his from...his childhood, maybe_? He told himself. Ludwig left to exit his bedroom, but suddenly stopped. _No, that person must have been more than a friend if…if he's this sad over that __**one**__ person_. Ludwig began to walk again, shutting the door softly at his leave. His heart felt heavy—almost as if it were incased in an iron mold. His friend who was always so giddy and joyful was now in pain. His friend who's smile always brightened his day still smiled, and his friend who's eyes always remained bright were still bright.

But they lied.

_I'll look in his room… He has to have something from his past_. And so the German did.

He checked the closet first. Shirts, pants, shoes; some old, some new. A few boxes here and there of miscellaneous items, each of which were dated far too recent for any clues. The drawers and nightstands were second—nothing. He even checked the bathroom.

Nothing.

A sigh of disappointment left the blonde's lips as he sat on the edge of the mostly unused bed. _Normally one has something to remind them of their childhood and adolescence…then again, I don't._ It really was quite bothersome that he didn't; the only thing he remembered was…well…nothing. Gilbert had told him it was a "bad accident", but those were Gilbert's words. And Gilbert was…Gilbert.

Icy blue eyes peered to the floor seeing that an untied shoe gazed back up into them. The German soldier kneeled to the ground and slightly shivered as a cool draft from under the bed hit his fingers. Just before finishing the bow, he paused and looked into the darkened abbess.

_Under the bed…?_

Was a box. Not a big or small box—just a normal, wooden box. It was not dated, much to Ludwig's disappointment, but somehow, he could tell it was old. Removing the dust covered top and gently setting it aside, he now found new hope in replace of his disappointment.

The first item was a pair of little brown booties no bigger than the size of Ludwig's palm. The laces were tattered and unraveling, the thin fabric scratched and pealing, and mud stains and dried dirt covered almost every inch of the tiny boot. Laying them aside, he then found what appeared to be small white pantaloons. _This is from Feliciano's childhood, no doubt._ Laying those aside, his new found hope was now replaced by confusion. After the puffy white garment was a frilly, lacey, white petticoat. _Well_ _this can't be his… _He laid that aside, an apron following after. _This can't…_ He laid yet another garment aside. After that—

The German suddenly felt his heart stop. _Why…_

A two-toned green dress. Light at the top, dark at the bottom.

Slowly, Ludwig took the small article of clothing into his hands. It looked tough and thick, yet it was light and delicate due to its overly used condition. A young girl's dress worn not for play, but for work.

_It's a maid's dre_—

Ludwig's head started to throb with sharp pain, causing him to drop the dress and clutch his skull. Images filled his mind like a photographic slide through a film's lenses. He saw her; that maid. The boots, the pantaloons, the petticoat; the apron and that dress. Her auburn, rusty hair covered by a white bonnet, her dog-like hazel eyes, and that curl—

_That curl_…

That sharp pain shook the blonde's mind yet again. Moments later, as the pain left him, he opened his eyes.

They weren't his eyes, though.

_The little maid was crying as she smiled. "I'll wait… I'll wait for you, always!"_

Ludwig shook his head.

"_We'll see each other again, we will! I promise," a boy's voice now spoke. It was like a higher pitched version of— **That's my voice…** **That's—**_

"_Don't get sick or hurt, ok? I don't care how long, I will wait for you!" The maid whipped her tears away and flashed a wide smile of hope. "I will always wait for you, Holy Roman Empire…" __**She called me—**_

"_No matter how many hundreds of years go by, I will always love you more than anyone… Farewell, Italy…"_

"Italy…?"

A lightning bolt brought the stunned blond back to reality, but not his full mind. Dazed, he stood. Distraught, he stared at the fallen dress. Slowly, he walked. He walked from the bedroom, down the hallway, down the stairs, out the front door, and stared at the pouring rain.

And then he ran.

The hardened rain hit his skin like bullets; the lightning and thunder flashing and ringing like grenades. It was dark, cold; muddy and soaking. Ludwig's mind was the exact opposite, bright with images, hot with adrenalin, but his body matched the earth—legs stumbling, drenched with rain.

"_Ever since the 900's…"_

This was war. These flashbacks, these thoughts… Each second these images and words laced their way through his mind was like having wounds reopened and stained with salt.

"_I've always…"_

He didn't care about the pain that rippled through those wounds, he didn't care about the scar each one would leave. He only wanted them to be sewn up and fixed. He only wanted an answer as to when the pigments would heal and the stitches taken out.

Ludwig knocked on the large wooden door, losing count each time his knuckles dug into the splintering wood.

"_Always loved you…"_

He fell to his knees as the door unlocked and opened. A frantic gasp of a woman was barely heard. "Ludwig, what—"

"Where's Roderich?"

"Elizaveta," a voice called from inside the house, "who is it?"

Ludwig suddenly sprinted towards the voice. Not being much of a surprise, he found the prudent brunet sitting at his beloved piano. And with one swift grab of his suit collar, he was no longer sitting.

"You know me just as well as my brother. You know my current history and you most certainly know my fallen past." The weather drenched blond gripped tighter onto the collar. "So tell me… Tell me who I am, Roderich. Tell me who I really am!"

**A/N: Sorry for the cliffhanger guys! Hope you liked chapter one! Chapter two will be out soon, I promise!**


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